


The Other Reflection

by Tancong



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Don't worry, Emergenji, F/M, Gency, I hope you didn't like being happy, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, it'll only get more angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-14 08:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11778978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tancong/pseuds/Tancong
Summary: Sometimes, life doesn't always go as expected. There are many things that we take for granted in this life. Things that aren't always permanent.





	1. Day 1

Why did he do it at all? Why did he even bother opening his eyes and gaze up at the ceiling above him? He knew that it would be there. There were many things that he knew would be there every morning when he woke up. The sun would be in the sky, the ceiling would be above his head, and the radio would be playing the news. Well, at least if it was on.

Genji forced himself to get up, to gaze at the window before getting off from the bed. There were many things that he took for granted to always be there. Sometimes, these things came and go without a warning. Sometimes, it was better to try and pretend that they were not gone.

The kitchen table was empty, forcing his hand to restrain itself from grabbing the porcelain coffee mug that would usually sit there waiting for him alone. Instead, he rummaged through the cabinets on the bottom, where he found a disposable cup. With that, he set off to make himself some coffee.

As it boiled, he absentmindedly walked outside, his usually heightened senses completely ignored and his observant bright eyes dull. He wandered around the front for a moment, lost in both his thoughts and his desire to not think, before recalling his intentions.

The recycling bin found itself filled up much earlier than usual, though of course, no single load of trash could fill it up. After all, it was an orderly house that strictly limited on its supply of trash, always being emptied after a few days and with very little to throw away through conservation. Today, the small trash bin Genji held in his hand was filled with trash.

There were a few letters that they had received the previous day, including a few of his own. There was the morning’s newspaper, discarded while still inside its plastic package. And there was a ripped calendar, torn right through the center.

The pages filled with neat X’s were now crumpled and torn. There was a small happy angel drawn on the calendar date representing the previous day, accompanied by a house and a small golden heart. It stood at the center of the divide, torn in half relentlessly and without a chance at being put back together. The bottom half of the pages below that week was gone, crumpled and thrown somewhere underneath all the other items.

Genji did not pay mind to this as he let the lid shut behind him, finding his way back into the house. The trash bin clattered onto the kitchen floor near its usual place next to the counter, tipping over as part of its bottom landed on a stray porcelain shard to barely lean against the counter, threatening to tip over at any moment.

The coffee was ready now and Genji poured it into the cup, past the halfway line that he would normally need. He pulled out the chair on the other side of the table, pushing away a stray thin piece of wood in the process. He sat down, taking a sip of the coffee as his gaze never strayed from the dark liquid in the cup.

In its reflection, he saw only himself. His hair was obscuring his vision, free from the usual neat combing and gel that would prevent it from doing so. He gazed at himself, hating every moment of seeing himself there. Why was he still here?

Genji’s eyes widened as he felt something flutter behind him, the gentle breeze of something familiar approaching him as soft as an angel. He whipped around, only to find the stray convenient store plastic bag floating down toward the ground. It was an easy enough mistake, especially when they always agreed to avoid using plastics and stores that needed them. He stood up and closed the front door, sitting down to pick up the cup again.

His image shook in the reflection as he moved to take another sip. The waves bounced back and forth inside its confines, the cup deforming as Genji struggled to keep it still. At last, he placed it down forcibly, creating a large ripple instead of an otherwise imminent spill. A ripple that was forcibly disrupted by yet another that suddenly appeared off center within the cup. And another on the other side.

Genji stood up, walking away from the table and returning to the bedroom. The coffee could wait, it was much too hot for a warm summer day anyway. Besides, it was bitter. So, so bitter on the tongue that desired nothing. Not even the ready-to-eat convenient store meals that waited to be heated from the fridge.

He laid down once more in the isolated dark bedroom, the blanket tossed aside in a heap despite half the bed still being completely neat. It was a stark contrast, the fluffed up and smooth pillow on one side of the bed compared to the turned and wrinkled cover of the other, the side of the bed where the bed cover was pulled up and wrinkled almost to the point of tearing.

Genji laid on this side of the bed, choosing this time to gaze up at the ceiling instead of the blank wall underneath the closed window beyond the edge of the bed. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as the thoughts returned to him. Hell, it was a generous to even call them thoughts. At best, they were called memories. Normally, they were undoubtedly called a living nightmare.

Genji simply laid there then, with his eyes shut and lying dead on the bed. Perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps it was better that he should stay there after all. It was probably a mistake to get out of bed that morning after all.

With that, he forced himself to go into sleep mode once more. It was better to simply shut his entire body and mind down so that he did not have to think about it all. If she hadn’t been so thoughtful, he would have gladly shut his system down permanently. However, his lover had not been so careless. She was never careless. But that didn’t change the outcome.

As his systems shut down once more, he thought to himself the only coherent thought he has had all day. Why did he even bother opening his eyes and gaze up at the ceiling above him? The answer was that he shouldn’t. Not when the one thing he looked forward to every morning was no longer next to him. Not when there was no one to see him even as he struggled to see himself.

If he didn’t matter, then why should he pretend to still be there at all? When there was no light around him to gaze at, there was no difference between when his eyes were shut and when they were open.

Every journey began with a single step. However, how is he to take a step when the whole world would not even allow him to stand?


	2. Year 0

For the first time in his life, Genji got a glimpse into why Angela had so many sleepless nights filled with work. Well, he couldn’t speak for her of course. She had tried to explain it to him once, though she never quite found the correct words to describe her feelings.

But now he understood. There was something about losing someone dear to a person that made sleep seem quite unsatisfying. Some, like her, found themselves dedicating the time to do something productive instead, to find ways to prevent further death or make their lives be worthwhile down to the last second. Perhaps some simply miss the presence of another next to them, to the point where having to wake up and realize that their death wasn’t just a dream was not worth having gotten the rest.

Perhaps he would go through all these stages in due time. But for now, his reason was a simple one. Even with him, sleep brought dreams. Dreams of seeing her die right in front of him, unable to move or even shout her name.

Some days, he would be spared from watching her crumple lifelessly to the ground. In others, he would have to watch a faceless bastard step over her corpse to finish him off. He knew not which was better. When he woke up, neither of these realities existed any longer. However, the reality he woke up to still did not have Angela alive, even if he had killed that faceless man.

Maybe it took a week. Maybe it took more. Some days he got up for long enough to eat and wash the dishes before resigning himself to bed. Some days he just didn’t leave the bed at all. When he was in bed, he tried not to sleep. When he was out of bed, he wanted to go back.

After a month, he got out of the house. He bought himself more food and took a walk around the neighborhood. When he was sick of every sight that reminded him of her, he walked farther. Some of these days he walked for hours on end before figuring that he would walk back. Some days, he simply walked until he was tired enough to rest at a convenience store before calling a taxi back.

Perhaps a month later, he would call Ana. She helped him, he thought. She was definitely very concerned about him at the very least, not having heard from him for over two months since the incidence. The nightmares came less often, though, on the nights that he did not have them, he dreamt of sleeping with her. He dreamt of the happy memories, only for them to shatter as he woke up.

It was a good sign, he was told as he reconnected with more people. He could still work with Overwatch but he politely declined for the moment. He asked to be flown back to his hometown a few hours away from where he lived. He stayed with Hanzo for a while, simply talking about menial life matters that did not involve family, death, or marriage.

Soon enough he went back. He found himself writing letters, putting them in a small shabby mailbox that he made. It was labeled for “Angela Shimada” and quickly filled up. He began to get better at making them.

It would be many months before he bought a cabinet, much like what she used in the office. Then he began to organize things. He looked through the files she had at home and put them in an envelope to send back to their respective clients and organizations. He filled these cabinets with letters, once every day.

At some point, he realized that a year had passed. He was reminded only by the date he wrote on the letter, leaving him with a pang of pain in his chest as he recalled the calendar that he had torn up and thrown away.

The last remnant of her writing and hopes for the future.


	3. Year 1

The house was cleaned and organized again. It was a habit that he began to claim from Angela, making the house feel as if it was still under her supervision. With the cleanliness came guests. 

They even held a party at one point, or well it was just a pleasant reunion over dinner. Some came to visit often, like Lena and Emily. They often stayed to chat and watched shows together. Genji learned how to smile and laugh again.

Others came over after calling in advance to check. Sometimes they coincidentally came together. Those were always pleasant days for Genji.

Eventually, he figured that he should get back into shape. Even being a cyborg can’t stop him from losing his physique after a year of slacking off. He began with just running, running around the town and exploring further than he did during the first year.

It helped him relax and took his mind away from the dark thoughts that he had sealed away with the bright photos, lights, and cleanliness of the house. Outside of his organized home, everything including his thoughts threatened to pull him into the ground. 

Eventually, he stopped taking the taxi back. He simply ran back, even if it meant he came home at 4 or 5 in the morning. He finally had some dreamless sleep these days, or at least with dreams that didn’t rip his soul apart once he woke up. Perhaps he was finally coping with it, though he probably wasn’t. 

It became apparent when he tried to talk to Lena about Angela’s death. It was out of the blue and Lena was very supportive in her listening from the very first moment. However, he did not even get past the memory of simply seeing Angela in the distance before he broke down, comforted only by Lena’s soft embrace.

He started to write fewer letters. Well, technically he did. It was mostly because he went out to run for so long that he ended up forgetting to write one. He still had so many things to say to her. Some days he simply described the scenery, wishing that she could have been there beside him to see it all. Other letters described only his feelings, the ones he couldn’t share with anyone else without breaking down. Many of these letters had wet blotches over them.

He probably did a lot more things that year. He couldn’t remember much of it though. He found a suit and tie at one point before putting them away. He wasn’t ready to expose himself to the world again yet. The members of Overwatch were extremely considerate for him and he greatly appreciated them. But out in the world, there were undoubtedly people who were compassionate and perceptive enough to realize he was troubled.

He wasn’t ready for that. Not just yet. Perhaps not ever. But for now, he simply kept to himself.


	4. Year 2

Well, at least there was a calendar on the wall again. This time, the month was filled with little scribbles of where he wanted to run to. Sometimes he would replace these boxes with small photographs he snapped of the scenery with Angela’s camera. She always did love taking pictures of the scenery and of them. He wasn’t quite ready to see himself in those pictures yet, lest he is reminded of the absence of his lover next to him in the photos.

Eventually, he grew tired of running. He ended up running a few marathons where he expertly avoided the reporters and intrigues of other runners (some habits and skills die hard after all,  _ that  _ was a joke he could now allow himself to make), before heading home. 

As such, he decided to go to the gym. It was also a way for him to force himself to interact with others. No matter how hard he tried, there was no way he could avoid being asked to be a spotter or needed one. To his dismay, he found himself to have lost some strength. Well, it was to be expected he supposed. He was the same way when he first started running too.

As with running, he worked himself through the day before heading back. There were a few regulars there that asked him about his workout patterns and was amazed at the time he had for it. He simply said that he had a viable income method that allowed him to keep working out. 

The people there didn’t pry too much into his personal life, which definitely helped him to stay at it. Eventually, the amount of weights and exercises he could handle every day increased. He met many people there who greeted him and knew his exercise patterns well enough to be right there exactly when he needed them. He finally ended up wearing the wedding ring on his hand again and on a necklace for when he’s weightlifting.

He only did it because it reminded him of her when he worked. He found it comforting and encouraging to think of her, though it took him a few days before he grew accustomed to having its weight on his ring finger again. He was reminded of the old times when he would drag her from her work to exercise at the gym, watching as she pouted and panted with every exercise but still working hard and looking absolutely beautiful while she did.

Eventually, he bid farewell to his friends at the gym. He did not want to become a bodybuilder, after all, the experience simply got him back in shape and let him feel more comfortable in public. He was confident that he could function normally again.

And so, he went and got himself a job at a coffee shop.


	5. Year 3

It felt strange to work at a normal workplace again, though it was a welcomed change. It was quite calm compared to the work at Overwatch, as to be expected. He was greeted cheerfully there on the first day, drawing intrigue from the other employees by his appearance. It was simple enough, he was more than agile enough to handle all the work that was required of him at the shop and his communication skills had been fine-tuned over years of concise combat chatter.

That being said, he kept mostly to himself and simply did his job. It was easier than he had thought, people didn’t prod into his life nor did they bother him when he fell into one of the more melancholy moods at the reminder of Angela. Not everything made him feel that way now at least, he still gets reminded of her all the time though.

The scent of coffee constantly reminded him of her. The setting of the coffee shop  _ definitely  _ reminded him of her. However, perhaps that was why he chose to work here. It reminded him of the good times when they had sat at one of these very tables, being served by a cheerful server while chatting away without a care in the world.

His bad moods were never anything too terrible, which he attributed to the calm atmosphere of the coffee shop. At times, he would lose his train of thought or wince at a memory but he recovered quickly enough. Or at least, enough so that no one brought it up.

There was a young woman with blonde hair that came to visit the coffee shop quite often. She came in at the exact same time every day, right during his shift. It didn’t seem as if she did it on purpose, he just ended up being the one to serve her every day. During weekdays, it was quite scarce in customers and Genji did not want to bother the other people cleaning or doing other work.

They first talked only because Genji had glanced at the book she read and commented on its content. It was much to her delight that he knew the content so well, despite his sigh and explanation that he only knew it because someone almost annoyed him to death reading it every night.

They were … friends, to some degree. She gave him a smile when she came in and left a nice tip every day. He got permission from her to practice drawing art in the coffee cream. Occasionally she would ask him questions about the book, to which he either shrugged or remember some random comment from the back of his mind that would help her.

On some days, he found himself gazing at the young woman, seeing Angela in her. That could have been her at one point, in the time they had not known each other and if she was not holed up in her own room or laboratory.

In another life, perhaps he would have fallen in love with this girl working as a young man at a respected coffee shop. In that life, perhaps they could have studied and lived together happily in a small home, where she goes on to become a genius doctor who worked day in and day out while he made her favorite coffee every day as the best manager of the city’s renown coffee shop.

However, in this life, his one love was already gone.

On his last day of work, the young woman came and ordered one last cup of latte and requested a specific artwork. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he drew it gracefully, leaving her quite happy with the result.

Before he left, she asked him one question. He knew that she probably saw more in him than the simple question she asked. As such, he answered her to the best of his ability before granting her one last smile and leaving the coffee shop in his past.

“Who was it you said that made you remember this book so well despite not being in the medical field?”

“I was married to her. I’m sure you know her name, considering that you’re reading her last book and asked me to draw her symbol. Thank you, for showing me that I’m not the only one whose life has been changed by her. And good luck.”


	6. Square Zero

When he returned to Overwatch once more, he was once again a different man. While he could not say that he was whole, he had found his stride once more. He quickly was readmitted to the main team and sent on missions, since he was well in shape and still completely capable with his prior training and experience on the field. He could once again walk confidently alongside his team with a purpose in mind.

For Angela’s and the young woman’s sake, he will fight to make sure that no one will have to use those medical procedures ever again. At the very least, he will fight to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. He knew that if he were to make his life and her sacrifice worthy, that was the least he had to do. Now, he knew what exactly he was fighting for. What Angela had been fighting for her whole life. For everyone and for herself.

And in doing so, he now had someone to fight alongside with no matter where he was. In the glint of his blade, his scarred face was no longer the only thing that stared back at him. Angela was there too, as beautiful as he had remembered her, bringing a new ray of hope and strength to his blade from wherever she may watch him from. 

A blade mirrors its master but yet it always had two sides.  _ She _ was the other reflection.


End file.
